by Sherry Ewing
He had been more than a little surprised to see the woman who now lay next to him hovering near his chamber door last eve. She was a good-looking woman, although he had bedded prettier. She had held a pile of linens as if she were about some chore, but in his mind’s eye ’twas but an excuse for what she really wanted. With her come hither gaze and her eyes all but stripping the clothes off his body, he had opened the door to let her choose if she entered or not. If she was offering to service him, Faramond was not fool enough to deny himself a bit of sport!
She began to stir, curling her arms around him as though taking possession of him, not that she could. Faramond had no desire to be tied down to any woman who would not bring with her a great deal of wealth to line his coffers. But a slight deviation from his plan to rise early to continue his search could be delayed, especially when the woman moved atop of him. Aye, she is most accommodating, Faramond thought again, as he guided her about their play to show her what he liked. She did not seem to mind that he enjoyed his pleasure a little rough while she made every effort to please him.
She began nibbling upon his neck and uttering useless words of love. Not wishing to hear such endearments from a woman who was no more than a whore, he grabbed her and lifted her beneath him as he plowed into her softness over and over again. A sudden gasp escaped her when Faramond spilled his seed, not caring the woman had not found her own release.
He pulled off her and rose from the bed, ignoring the look of disappointment flashing briefly across her features. He began to don his clothing even while she reached for the fur coverings to hide her nakedness.
“Ye be leavin’ so soon?” Her slight Scottish brogue was a grim reminder of how close he was to Scotland’s border. He would much rather be sitting in front of his own damn hearth breaking his fast.
“I must ride. I am searching for my mother,” he answered, trying to remember if they had even had this conversation before. Nay, they wasted little time on speech last eve before they fell into bed. “Perchance you know of her. She is called Lady Ella of Hull.”
The brassy wench had the nerve to look upon him as though she were bored. “Do ye even remember my name?” she asked, all but ignoring his question. Her brow rose awaiting his answer.
He swiped the back of his neck attempting to recollect what she was called, not that it mattered. He would forget her as soon as he left Berwyck’s gates far behind. “Fire,” he replied when the name finally came to him.
“Fira,” she huffed.
“Close enough.” He came closer to the bed. “Do you know of her?”
Fira fluffed the pillows behind her, settled back into the bed, and then pulled one corner of the coverlet down. She patted the vacant space next to her in an invitation to join her. “Sit,” she urged, “or better yet, come back tae bed. Surely there are much better ways tae be spending yer morn than traipsing about the countryside.”
Faramond watched in amusement when she let the coverlet fall below her naked breasts. Reaching out, he gave one pink puckered nipple a pinch, enjoying the sound of her startled surprise. A wicked gleam entered her eyes and she licked her lips.
“You have not answered me,” Faramond muttered, taking hold of her other breast and giving the bounty he held in his hand a rough squeeze. He had the distinct impression this woman knew exactly whom he was speaking about.
Fira shrugged and then proceeded to examine her nails. “Everyone at Berwyck knows Ella, although she insists she is no lady and even refuses tae answer tae such a title. I heard tell she was leaving before dawn. Heading south, I think, tae be reunited with some man she loves, or so goes the whisperings I overheard with the kitchen servants.”
A snarl burst from Faramond’s lips. “Bloody hell! You have all conspired against me!” He began rushing around the chamber collecting his gear.
“Ye cannae leave without me,” Fira yelled out.
“Aye, I can.” He went to the shutter shoving it open. Cursing, he realized he had slept the morn away and ’twas far later than he thought.
She pushed the covers off her and rushed to his side. “Ye promised me last eve if I gave myself tae ye, then ye would take me with ye.”
A snort escaped him. “I did no such thing.”
“Aye, ye did, milord. Ye said ye would make me the lady of yer castle.” Rubbing her naked body against him did not have the effect she had apparently been hoping for. He had no intentions of changing his mind, even if he had uttered such nonsense.
He laughed. “You silly fool. What makes you think I would take a common whore for a wife?”
“But what if there is a bairn from our coupling?” She began wringing her hands together.
“What makes you think I would believe the brat was mine?”
Her chin quivered, tears welling in her eyes. “But ye promised…”
“You should have learned years ago to live with disappointment. Promises are always made to be broken.” Enough people had broken promises to him. His father and mother, for a start. The knight to whom he’d been sent for fostering. The king. Every stupid wench that swore she loved him with one eye on his purse.
He picked up his sword and strapped the blade to his side. Reaching into the leather pouch, he fetched a coin and tossed the money onto the bed. “Payment for your services. It should be enough to keep you off your back for a while.”
He left her without a backwards glance. The only sound of her annoyance was the shattering of something she threw upon the closed portal.
He had wasted enough time this morn. Making his way through the great hall, he grabbed a loaf of bread off a nearby table and headed out the door to the inner bailey. He summoned a lad to fetch his horse. He would head south in the hopes this was the direction his mother was going and that Fira spoke no falsehood. After all… how far could a woman wander on foot?
Chapter 9
Dusk had fallen, the sky a heavenly splash of color in rich pink and purple. Every part of Ella’s body gave a silent scream of protest. She had had enough of the beast beneath her. Her fingers clenched Killian’s tunic to the point her knuckles were white while she continued to hold on as if her life depended on it. Who was she kidding? She was afraid to let go for she was certain she would find herself slipping from the horse and possibly breaking a bone or two during her descent to the ground. This riding a horse business was better left to those who grew up around the wretched animals from the time they could first walk.
During the hours of their travel, Killian had kept, for the most part, silent. The only exception was a word or two encouraging her that her time in the saddle would soon be at an end. They were making good progress on their journey south. But no matter how many times he said they would reach their destination shortly, Warkworth Castle was nowhere in sight. ’Twas obvious they would not reach its gates this eve and she could blame no one but herself since she had insisted on resting on several occasions.
Every step of Killian’s steed, whether ’twas the fast or slow pace of the animal, brought its own obstacles, at least in Ella’s mind. ’Twas difficult to remain a respectable distance from a man when you were sitting upon his lap. She had given up sitting on the pillion behind him hours ago, and Killian’s saddle left no other alternative than to be wrapped within his embrace while he steered his horse in the direction of their destination. At one point she had insisted she ride upon the rump of the horse to at least put an end to the intimacy of their close proximity. Yet Killian would not hear of it. ’Twas either she settle herself in her current location or she rode her own horse. The ride all the way to Conisbrough Castle seemed as though ’twould be a long endless journey.
“Enough, Killian. Please… I beg of you. I cannot sit another minute on this beast from hell,” Ella complained in a soft whisper.
He pulled on the reins bringing the horse to a halt and scanned the perimeter of the area. “We shall make for the trees tae conceal us. Can ye ride just a few more minutes, Lady Ella?” he asked.
She rested
her head upon his chest and felt his arms tighten around her. “Once I am upon solid ground again, I will give you a sound verbal thrashing for using the L word with me again. ’Til then, I suppose my bruised backside can withstand a few more minutes of torture on this hideous creature.”
Mystic whinnied, causing Killian to chuckle while he turned his mount towards the nearby trees. “You treat me as if I am but a naughty child and then insult my horse. Whatever am I tae do with you, Ella?”
That question could have so many different meanings, she thought, even while she listened to the beat of his heart beneath her ear. Even her own traitorous emotions were a mess while he held her. She should be thinking of being reunited with Henry instead of pondering the horrible task of saying goodbye to Killian. He had always been so very kind to her and she would miss his company when she no longer journeyed to Berwyck.
“Ella?”
Her name as it passed his lips was like a promise to her ears. A promise he would keep her safe. A promise he would keep his vow. A promise of something more, if she would but forget everything she had fought so hard to hold on to all these years. It had been so long since she had seen the man she crossed time for. Could she even remember every detail of his face? His memory had, for the most part, become just a blur in her mind, and yet her heart still cried out for him. Why? ’Twould be so easy to forget aught else but Killian. And yet, Henry had been the reason she was in twelfth-century England in the first place, and the only reason she remained.
For years she had kept to her purpose of remaining in the past. Her greatest fear had been that dwelling on thoughts of her life in the future might tear her back to the twenty-first century, instead of being reunited with her long-lost love.
Aye… love him she had, but how could she have known that her doubts they could have a life together would tear them apart? Their time together had been riddled with conflict, even though they had spent two months falling in love with one another. First, she had to accept she had really fallen through time, and Henry needed to stop believing she was not a witch. But there was a bigger problem.
The king was demanding that Henry marry a younger woman of considerable wealth. When the woman had showed up at Henry’s castle, Ella had run, tears streaming down her cheeks, into the nearest forest. Not looking where she was going, she plummeted once more through time, finding herself in the same century but thirty years earlier. And thirty years younger.
She lifted her head to gaze upon this man who had been such a dear friend to her all these years. His eyes filled with concern and she offered him a smile to set any fears he may have to rest. She would not burden him with the troubling thoughts going through her head. If she acted on her feelings for him, surely she would only live to regret such a rash decision. Her destiny was with another and not with this caring man before her.
“I will be fine, Killian. Let us just rest for the eve. Everything will look brighter in the morn.”
He gave a nod and continued to steer his horse towards the trees. Relief flooded through Ella. She had the distinct feeling she would not be able to handle a deep conversation with Killian right now. Each time he gazed upon her, her heart leapt almost as though they could see into each other’s souls. Such a revelation was not comforting when Ella continued to try to remind herself her heart belonged to another. Or did it? She rubbed at her eyes feeling the beginnings of a migraine.
They rode deeper into the forest longer than Ella would hope but finally Killian pulled on the reins, halting the animal beneath them. Night had now fallen, but Ella was used to the dark, for she had concealed herself for many a year by using little to no light. She had not survived as long as she had by not adjusting to her surroundings and her need to remain hidden, not only from her son, but from those who roamed the countryside and would physically harm her if they came upon her.
Killian dismounted and as Ella slid onto the hard saddle, she gave a low moan. He held out his arms to help her down yet even the slightest movement caused her pain. She placed her hands upon his shoulders, and his own went about her waist as he lifted her. She skimmed down his body and her own came alive at the sensation. Her breath caught in her throat. Her knees buckled when her feet met the ground, yet Killian only brought her firmly up against his chest to prevent her fall. She gasped even while her arms wrapped themselves around his neck to hold on for support. Before she could even comprehend what her traitorous heart was feeling, he quickly lifted her up.
“Killian! Put me down this instant,” she ordered.
“And have ye fall when yer legs give out again? I think not.”
“This is highly inappropriate,” she barely choked out her reply before he adjusted her within his arms in order to pull a blanket from the gear on her horse.
“Ach! We are grown adults, Ella. Do ye honestly think I will let a woman in my care come tae harm?” he grumbled, making his way a short distance to a nearby log. “Dristan would have my head and I currently like its placement.” He tossed the blanket upon the ground before kneeling down to gently set her upon it.
They stared one to the other, neither putting any distance between them. Her fingers automatically curled into the length of his hair, the softness pulling to her senses.
“Yer safe, my lady. Ye can let go now.”
His words were lost to her just as surely as she had lost all sense of reality. “What?” she murmured.
He chuckled and gave her a truly wicked grin as though he knew where her thoughts had led. “I canna tend tae a fire if ye continue tae hold onto me, Ella.”
He might as well have thrown a bucket of frigid water upon her. Good heavens! What is coming over me, she mused. She quickly tore her arms from around his neck and folded her shaking fingers in her lap. “Sorry,” she muttered in embarrassment.
Killian wrapped the blanket around her. “No need tae be apologizing, Ella. Rest yerself and I shall tend tae camp.”
“I can help,” she said, starting to rise.
He gave her a gentle nudge on her shoulder. “Nay. There is no need. Ye are in my care so for once let someone take care of ye for a change.”
“I am used to fending for myself.”
He stood but watched her intently. “And I admire ye for it, but for now let me see tae keeping ye safe. Ye have fended for yerself far longer than ye should have.”
He walked away leaving her there in the dark with her thoughts running amuck inside her head. Soon, a small fire was lit at her feet to take the chill of the night air away, but ’twas the sound of Killian’s low singing of some Scottish song that lulled her into a peaceful sleep. She would have been startled to know that he observed her far into the night before he found his own slumber.
Chapter 10
His name, whispered in his ear like a soft caress, had Killian clasping the welcoming curves of the woman whose arms were draped around his shoulders. Kisses trailed down his neck, causing parts of him to stir to life and he inhaled the fragrance of her hair smelling of sweet flowers.
“Killian…”
The seductive tone of Ella’s voice had Killian’s mind imagining a life together. His dream seemed so real, especially considering how well she fit within his embrace. The intrusion of birds calling to one another high above the treetops in the early morning hours only caused Killian to grasp this woman closer to him for surely he did not wish to rouse from his slumber. Let him dream just a bit longer…
“Killian, my love…”
My love? His eyes burst open at such an avowal while Ella dreamed on. He was startled to find the lady was truly wrapped around him like a second skin. He had not been dreaming after all, for apparently they naturally claimed one another while they had slumbered.
He began to carefully disengage himself from Ella, but once again her words halted any thoughts of moving farther from her side.
“Kiss me, Killian,” she murmured in her sleep.
He had made her a promise he would not kiss her again. He had every intention of h
onoring such a vow, and yet how could he deny himself the taste of her when she urged him closer with a gentle tug upon the back of his neck? He leaned forward to brush his lips against her own as if he had no choice but to honor her simple request. Yet there was nothing simple about what ignited between them. Fire erupted in his veins at the first encounter even while he heard a soft moan escaped her. ’Twas the sweetest sound he had ever heard but he also knew he would regret taking advantage of her in such a manner.
Their kiss ended sooner than he would have wished. Ella’s eyes briefly flickered open, causing Killian to hesitate with an offer of an apology. Her smile brightened her whole countenance, but such a look was fleeting and Killian knew she was still under the delusion she was dreaming. She gave a heavenly sigh, and then took up the fur pelt to return to her slumber.
Killian jerked back and slumped against the fallen log. A hundred scenarios raced across his mind while he attempted to figure out how in the hell he was ever going to turn over the woman he loved to another man. She must care for him. Why else would she whisper his name while she slept? He could not even think further upon her words when she uttered my love, let alone how she asked for his kiss. Aye, she may have been dreaming, but surely there was some truth hidden deep within her that she mayhap cared for him too.
Reaching for the pouch on his belt, he opened the leather and pulled out his mother’s ring. ’Twas the only thing he had left of the woman who gave him life. For one instant, he thought of bestowing this treasure to Ella, but he quickly dismissed the idea knowing her heart went to another. But what if she had changed her mind?
